


Sagitta Amor

by spookyknight



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Ghost Story with a Twist, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-27 15:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyknight/pseuds/spookyknight
Summary: Settling into his new neighborhood, Lance is primed and ready for social harmony, professional success, and love—in whatever order they happen to find him. The temperamental resident ghost with intimacy issues is, admittedly, a curveball. But Keith may just be the bump in the night that brings it all together.





	1. Let Your Arrow Fly

Lance loved the new digs. Great location, two bedrooms, hardwood floors, fireplace, and all for an almost unbelievably affordable rate. There had to be a catch. There always was.

It was nerves, he told himself. New borough, new place. He wasn’t used to living on his own. Growing up, in the rare moment of actual quiet, his house had done its fair share of “settling,” complete with untimely creaks and thumps.

But it kept happening. Strange noises, inexplicably fallen objects, cupboards left open, lights turning back on in other rooms after he’d left. He clung to denial. Nerves, it was just nerves.

Then it started happening in front of him. Drawers opening, doors slamming, lights flickering like some kind of poltergeist telekinetic awakening. Sleepless nights, unmanly shrieking, and hiding under the covers. But even the terrifying concept of residing with the undead became routine after a while.

“Okay,” he said one morning, finding the outfit he picked out for the day flung onto the floor. “I get it. You’re haunting me.”

All the lights in the room turned off. Lance sighed, switched the nightstand lamp back on, and got dressed. When he reached the kitchen, every cupboard door was open.

He stomped upstairs to the guest room and rummaged through one of the as-of-yet-unpacked boxes. Stomped right back downstairs with his prize. He slammed down the dry erase board and marker from his old dorm room door onto the kitchen table.

“Just tell me what you want,” Lance yelled at the empty room. “I can’t help unless you tell me.”

Arms crossed, he stared down the board. Nothing happened. He felt a bit foolish. Because of course nothing happened. His overactive imagination had invented a ghostly roommate to ease his loneliness. This was all in his head, like fabricated shadows after a scary movie.

Or not.

The dry erase board flew off the table and smacked into a nearby wall.

So, after finally getting a space where he should feel comfortable and relaxed, Lance resigned himself to walking on eggshells in his own home. He felt weird getting naked and anxious falling asleep. He definitely couldn’t bring a date back home and the idea of taking matters into his own hands was downright creepy. The added sexual frustration made him even more convinced he was losing his mind.

When the disturbances abated, he didn’t feel much better. Phantom weirdness had become the new normal and its infrequency somehow put him more on edge. Weary from another restless night, Lance luxuriated one weekend morning in a long, hot shower. He was toweling his hair when something caught his eye.

There was a word written in the steamy mirror.

_help_

Lance snorted. “Oh. Yeah. That’s not creepy at all.”

A small dot appeared beneath the word. Then another. Then a semi-circle. There was a little happy face drawn underneath the word _help_.

“And that makes it better?” The mouthwash bottle toppled off the counter. Lance put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry! At least we’re communicating, right?”

The room was still for a moment. The specter scrawled another word into the condensation. The mirror was clearing, so the writing was on the far end. Lance stepped closer to read it and met resistance. He’d bumped into something. But there was nothing there. _Holy shit_. He’d bumped into—

“Whoa.” He reached out and his hand touched something invisible but solid—impossible, ethereal, but definitely something. Then there was pressure on his shoulders and he was pushed back. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Can I…?”

He waited a moment and leaned over to read the message.

_stuck_

“You’re trapped here, huh? That sucks.” A thought struck him and he held up a hand. “Hey, can you give me a high five?”

Lance _swore_ he heard someone sigh. But then an invisible force slapped his hand with all the same pressure and _thwack_ of a good old high five. He whooped in victory and reached out to catch the imperceptible hand in his.

He threaded their fingers together. “We can do this.”

The specter’s hand flinched, as though upset at having been caught.

“Hey,” he soothed. “I said I’d help, okay?”

Lance felt a squeeze and his stomach did this little flip that was much nicer than the knots his insides had been twisted in for the past few weeks. He let go of the unseen hand.

“Can we, like, come up with a system, so I know where you are?” He smirked. “I doubt you want to watch me take a shit.”

There were two knocks on the counter.

Lance laughed. “Twice for no, nice. This is better than messing with all my stuff, right? I mean, it’s better for me.” One knock on the counter. “Cool. Cool, oh—hey, what can I call you?”

The spirit signed a name in the remaining condensation.

_Keith_

“Keith, okay. I’m Lance. You probably already knew that.” One knock sounded on the counter. “Um, I’m gonna change if you wanna go downstairs or whatever.”

Two light, quick raps on the wall. Not ‘no.’ This was ‘ok.’ Somehow he understood. The bathroom door opened and he heard the click of his bedroom door closing. For the first time since moving into his new house, Lance knew he was alone.

~ * ~

Lance wasn’t quite sure how to be a good host to his invisible guest. He couldn’t offer Keith food or carry on an engaging conversation. Lance braved a few polar questions but there was such a gap between his query and the one-or-two knock response that he felt awkward and bothersome. Keith’s presence seemed to fade in and out, like a radio station just out of range.

So he did what he imagined any person in a haunted abode would do: filled the house with as much noise as possible.

He watched primetime television over dinner and played music when he wasn’t cooking or cleaning. It became routine to challenge the contestants in Jeopardy. Keith seemed to like that. This apparition was definitely competitive. Lance shouted out the first answer that came to mind—when it was correct, there was radio silence, but if there was doubt, Keith knocked on the coffee table.

If Lance’s hasty answer was indeed proven wrong, Keith would elbow him lightly in the side. The first time, it scared the hell out of him, but Lance adapted. It became a strange comfort, knowing Keith was there on the couch next to him and responding.

When the electronics weren’t making noise, Lance talked.

He told Keith about his day at work, recounted old college stories, pondered how adults even made new friends. His unearthly roommate occasionally chimed in with a tap or two. For the most part, Lance couldn’t tell if Keith was listening or ignoring him. Either way, one voice filled the empty air between them.

Overall, he thought he was handling the whole haunted thing pretty well. Lance didn’t forget his promise to help his resident phantom, but seeing it through was decidedly more complicated. He knew fuck-all about getting spirits to cross over or any other ghost-whisperer shit. And Keith wasn’t exactly forthcoming. His roommate had decent days and uncommunicative days and bad days, on which he devolved back to banging doors and throwing stuff to the floor.

When Lance’s old suitemates agreed to meet up, it was a blessed dose of normalcy. They converged on the coffee shop near campus. The barista called out _Buttercup_ , and _Blossom_ , and finally _Bubbles_. The trio gathered their drinks and absconded to their usual table in the back.

“How’s the real world treating you?” Pidge asked.

“It’s great. You know. No tests, no grades, no term papers.” Lance smirked over the rim of his coffee. “How are the infernal pits of academia?”

Hunk sighed mournfully. “Oh, man. Grad school is definitely hell. But also awesome.”

Pidge sat up a bit straighter. “We got the Kaltenecker Research Grant.”

“That’s awesome.” Lance gave high-fives all around. “Congrats, guys.”

Hearing his friends had earned a well-deserved reward for their hard work lifted Lance’s mood. Pidge rambled on about the particulars of their research. Lance got a little lost in the technicalities. Still, he was inspired by the passion in her voice. He felt transported back to their college days. They saw each other less often now, but graduating hadn’t lessened their bond.

Hunk flipped topics back to Lance’s post-graduate life. “You all unpacked?”

“Almost,” Lance answered honestly. “The house is definitely haunted.”

“ _Really_?” There appeared a glint in Pidge’s eyes but it must have been an imagined dramatic effect.

Lance sighed. “I don’t say that lightly. Footsteps and creepy noises are one thing, but it’s escalated to stuff happening right in front of me.”

Pidge nodded to herself. “Class 4 encounter. The entity can affect solid objects.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely happening.”

Pidge leaned forward. “Is it malevolent?”

Lance thought about the progress he’d made in communicating with his resident spirit. “Keith is a moody emo baby sometimes, but I don’t think he’s malicious on purpose. I think he’s frustrated that he can’t move on or whatever. I feel kinda bad for him.”

Hunk chimed in. “Keith?”

“Yeah.”

“You named it?”

Lance shook his head. “No, I didn’t—that’s his name. He wrote it on the bathroom mirror.”

Pidge looked like she was suppressing a laugh. “He was watching you shower?”

“No.” Lance paused, confidence waning. “I don’t think so?”

“Lance, you may have a pervy ghost in your new townhouse.”

Lance huffed. “I don’t think he has any interest in peeping. We have a system. He taps on things so I know where he is.”

Pidge perked up at that. “You’re already communicating.”

“A little. He answers questions sometimes but it’s not a perfect system.”

Pidge banged her fist on the table. “We’re gonna talk to a ghost.”

“Uh, Pidge,” Hunk said. “I don’t know if this is something we should be messing with.”

Pidge balked. “That’s surprisingly Shaggy Rogers of you.”

“I’m just saying we should be careful,” Hunk advised.

“So don’t read aloud Latin passages from strange books and listen to Lydia.”

Hunk nodded. “Fair enough.”

They both looked to Lance. He made a face. “What, I’m Lydia?”

“You’ve had the most contact with...Keith.” Pidge adjusted her glasses, putting on scholarly airs. “You’re the best gauge to measure his motivations. We’ll need you to interact with him.”

“Okay.” Lance was already trying to do that.

Pidge popped up from her seat. “I just gotta grab some things.”

~ * ~

Lance opened the front door and poked his head in. “Keith, we’ve got company.”

Upstairs, a door slammed shut. Right, so this was a bad day.

He grumbled something under his breath and let his friends in behind him. “I’ll be right back.”

Pidge and Hunk started setting up at the kitchen table. Lance slunk quietly into his bedroom.

“Keith?” No answer. “I’m sorry. I should have told you they were coming over. Hunk and Pidge are great friends. They’re here to help.”

Lance plopped down on the bed with a sigh.

“Pidge is really into the whole metaphysical shebang. I’m really out of my depth with this stuff. Please come out, I promise they’re good people.”

The comforter behind him rustled. Lance turned and held out his right hand, which Keith took. At least it felt that way, from the palpable weight and pressure of holding someone’s hand. Lance offered a smile in the spirit’s direction and led the way back downstairs, soft footfalls trailing behind him.

Keith kept grasping his hand, even as they stepped up to the kitchen table where his friends were already seated.

“This is Pidge and that’s Hunk.” Lance said. “Guys, meet Keith.”

Hunk looked around and shuddered visibly. “How do you know he’s here?”

“Dude.” Lance held up their joined hands...or his own clawed hand, depending on one’s perspective. “I’m literally touching him.”

“Aww,” Hunk cooed.

“Cute.” Pidge deadpanned. “Let’s get started.”

Lance made a face. “A Ouija board. Really?”

Indeed, there was a spirit board in front of the empty chair at the table.

“I figured we’d start simple,” Pidge said.

Lance released Keith’s hand and sat down in front of the board without thinking. It seemed seance-y, with the three of them seated in a triangle, Lance at the head of the table with his friends on either side.

Pidge began, “Keith. Do you know what happened to you?”

Keith leaned over Lance, bracketing his arms on either side of his neck to reach the teardrop-shaped planchette. The ghost pushed the indicator over the letter _F_. Pidge and Hunk gasped, both leaning forward to inspect the inexplicable motion more closely. The planchette moved over the letter _U_ and Lance clucked disapprovingly, trying to grab at Keith’s invisible wrist.

“That’s rude—”

Keith smacked Lance’s hand away, causing the latter to give an indignant yelp. The indicator moved over _Z,_ then circled around to that same letter again before moving on to the letter _Y_.

“F-u-z-z-y,” Hunk spelled out.

Pidge nodded to herself. “Your memory is fuzzy.”

The planchette zoomed to the left, pointing at the word _Yes_.

Lance shook his head in amazement. “This is actually working.”

Pidge fiddled with some dials on her ghost hunter gear.

“How old are you?” Hunk asked.

Keith moved the planchette over the number _2_ , then hesitated, before finally kind of zig-zagging over the whole row of numbers.

“You’re _two_?” Lance shrieked.

Pidge shot him a disappointed look. “I think he means he’s twenty-something.”

The indicator shot up to point _Yes_.

Lance winced. “Oh."

He felt warm breath fan out against his neck as Keith chuckled. “ _Idiot_ ,” a low voice murmured, more fond than insulting.

“Hey, I heard that!” Lance blinked, sitting up straighter. “Holy shit, I heard that.”

“Lance?” Keith spoke, lips nearly brushing the other’s ear.

Lance shuddered at the sound of his name being uttered so intimately, his face flushing hot under the scrutiny of his friends. It should’ve been creepy, ghostly whispers and all. But this was Keith, the moody weirdo who played Jeopardy with him and drew smiley faces on his fogged up mirror. It felt more like bonding than haunting.

Lance swallowed thickly. “Uh...he’s talking to me.”

Pidge aimed a thermal scanner in his direction and Lance tried to get a grip on himself—as well as he could with a husky-voiced twenty-something invisible-and-possibly-deceased squatter draped over him.

“Keith. Do you know where you are?” Pidge asked.

“Hmm,” Keith murmured. “My house?”

His friends looked at him expectantly and Lance remembered his role as translator. “He says this was his house.”

“Is,” Keith insisted.

“Was,” Lance argued. “I don’t see you paying rent.”

Another huff of breath brushed Lance’s ear. “Because I _own_ it.”

“You’re so sure that you own this property,” Lance grumbled. “But you don’t remember how old you are?”

“I feel like we’re getting off-track,” Hunk interjected.

Pidge waved him off. “Nah, this is all relevant.” She smirked. “Keith, be honest, are you angry this loud goofball is invading your space?"

Lance pouted. “I’m not a goofball! I am a cool, rugged, scientific intellectual.”

“You’re both of...those things,” Hunk conceded. “And we love you for it.”

“I’m not angry,” Keith whispered. “At least, not at Lance.” The spirit shifted, placing his hands over Lance’s from the feel of it. “You’re good. I think I’m just…I’m not done.”

“Not done what?” Lance asked.

“Everything.” Keith sighed and Lance felt a weight on his shoulder, as though a chin was resting there. “I’m tired,” he said, his voice now thin and distant.

“He says he’s tired,” Lance related to his friends.

Pidge nodded. “Talking probably takes a lot of energy.”

“Bye, Keith.” Hunk waved in Lance’s general direction. “Thanks for, um. Visiting.”

After a squeeze of Lance’s hands, the weight around him lifted and the air seemed empty and colder. “He’s gone.”

“Holy shit!” Pidge exclaimed, and the other two at the table jumped a bit at her outburst. “That was awesome.”

“Keith seems nice,” Hunk commented. “Or. At least not malicious.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, he’s not so bad.” He turned to Pidge. “Do you think we can help him? Cross over or whatever?”

“Maybe,” Pidge replied, distracted by the readouts on her gear. “I’ll have to do some more research. And you should do some of your own.”

Lance scrunched up his nose. “On what?”

“On the house. The history of its occupants.” She shrugged a shoulder. “If the records list the previous owner as Keith, then there’s your answer.”

“And news articles,” Hunk added. “To see if he was reported missing.” He cringed. “Or murdered.”

Pidge clicked her tongue. “It’s like you’ve never seen a horror movie.”

“Nu-uh.” Lance shook his head. “I do _not_ want to know if a horrific murder happened in my house. That I live in. And sleep in.”

“You have a ghost,” Pidge muttered. “Something happened here.”

Hunk put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m right there with ya, buddy. But if you want to help Keith, you’ve kinda gotta find out.”

“Aagh, fine,” Lance grouched.

Pidge glanced at her phone. “I’ve gotta go meet Matt soon. So before we go…"

“Are you gonna give us the grand tour?” Hunk finished.

“Yeah!” Lance hopped up from his chair. “Man, I really am a bad host. You guys want anything? Beer, soda, ectoplasm?"

“I will take whatever edible thing Hunk can cobble together from the contents of your fridge,” Pidge teased.

“No faith in my cooking skills.” Lance threw up his hands. “The disrespect. In my own house.”

Hunk grinned. “You mean Keith’s house.”

Lance howled and playfully shoved his friends toward the kitchen, basking in the sound of their laughter and unable to resist joining in despite their good-natured teasing. The tour proceeded without supernatural incident and too soon Pidge and Hunk were packing up their equipment so they could head out.

They paused at the door, calling goodbyes to the resident phantom that were answered by a series of knocks from upstairs, signalling Keith’s return.

“Have fun,” Hunk sing-songed with a wink.

Lance had the sinking feeling his ghostly adventure was just getting started.

~ * ~

The following work week was busy. Lance and his invisible housemate kept up their odd little routine. Keith didn’t start up any more verbal conversations and Lance didn’t push him to open up before he was ready.

That wasn’t to say they hadn’t made any progress. Lance was getting better at sensing Keith; more attuned to when Keith was present and a general idea of where he was, even before the spirit made himself known by knocking. And Lance—

Lance was adjusting. It was easier now that he considered it a forced cohabitation situation rather than a haunting.

Keith wasn’t a bad roommate. He didn’t steal his food, or dirty up the place, or keep him up with incessant partying. Keith did provide a bizarre sort of companionship and, more to the point, a challenge. Lance talked big about loving his freedom from academia, and he did relish it, but part of him missed the thrill of conquering a complex problem.

Lance dove into his research with more enthusiasm than he expected. He had an honest desire to help his ghostly companion, even if the bittersweet result would be losing Keith to the afterlife. As the saying went, ‘if you love something, let it go.’ Not that he—it was just an expression.

The ghost grew on him. On a rainy Sunday, Lance folded up a pile of dryer-warmed laundry. Keith kept him company, even tackling a few simple articles himself.

“The laundry fairy does exist,” Lance joked, watching a towel appear to fold itself.

Keith huffed. “You gonna leave me something under your pillow?”

“Maybe.” Lance smirked. “What do laundry fairies eat? Lint balls?”

“Ass.”

“You eat ass? Nice.”

Keith whacked Lance’s butt with a pillowcase.

“Yes, my ass is a fine specimen.” Lance cocked his hip, showing off the ass in question. “Thanks for noticing.”

“Cocky,” Keith tutted.

“That too. Here.” Lance lifted up the fitted sheet he'd been fighting to tame. “Help me with this.”

He unfurled the sheet, sending it up and over Keith’s head. The fabric billowed before settling so that Keith was covered like a half-assed bedsheet ghost. The image sent Lance into hysterics.

“Great look on you, dude,” he managed between fitful giggles. “Say ‘boo.’”

Keith pounced, sparking a wrestling match on the guest room bed. Their scuffle rumpled the clothes they had just spent the last half hour folding. Lance’s mirth was infectious and Keith caught it, chest rumbling with laughter even as they volleyed idle trash talk.

The sheet twisted around Keith as they grappled, enveloping his form to the point that Lance almost forgot he wasn’t a flesh and blood human being. Keith certainly seemed a solid weight when he finally managed to pin his adversary down.

Panting, Lance stared up at his subduer, marveling at the veiled outline of a forehead and nose, the sweeping curve of a neck flaring out into shoulders. He reached up, cupping Keith’s jaw and running a thumb over the victor’s chin, pressing the fabric down to reveal the swell of lips.

The weight pinning Lance down lifted, the sheet collapsing in on itself.

Lance resumed folding the laundry with a confused boner and an even more confusing flutter in his chest.

~ * ~

Keith vanished for the rest of the day. Late that night, his presence lurked near the bedroom doorway as Lance tucked himself into bed.

“Sorry if I pissed you off you earlier,” Lance murmured.

Two quiet knocks. _No_. Keith wasn’t angry, then. His disappearance meant something else.

“Do you sleep?”

Three knocks on the wall. _I don’t know_.

“You can come chill if you want.”

Lance patted the spot next to him. His offer hung awkwardly in the quiet room and he cursed inwardly at overstepping some invisible line between them. Then soft footsteps approached the bed and the mattress dipped under Keith’s weight.

“Hey,” Lance whispered.

“Hey.”

“Welcome back.”

Keith scoffed. “Thanks.”

“Where do you go?” Lance asked. “When you’re not here.”

“Dunno. It’s dark. Empty. Like coming up from anesthesia—you only know that you weren’t and now you are.”

Lance frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Lance shifted, the movement bringing him a bit closer. “What’s your favorite color?”

“What?” Keith tittered and Lance visualized his incredulous expression.

“You don’t remember a lot of details about your life,” Lance explained. “But, like, you have a personality. I thought you might recall trivial things.”

“Oh.” A pause where a smile might have been. “Red, I guess.”

“Cool.”

“What’s my personality?”

Lance barked out a laugh. “You’re asking _me_?”

“You brought it up.”

“Hmm.” Lance pursed his lips, gathering his thoughts. “Competitive. Honest. Kind of grumpy.”

“I sound like a bridge troll.”

“Could be. If you don’t get no tolls, you don’t get no rolls.”

Keith snorted. “Nerd.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise.” Lance cozied under the blankets, filled with the giddy energy of sleepovers past. “Why, what do _you_ do for fun?”

“Lately? Entertain this talkative smartass who’s invaded my house.”

“Ah." Lance grinned toothily. "So I’m supposed to find your supernatural temper-tantrums entertaining.”

“You think your witty banter is charming,” Keith sniped.

Lance gave a mock gasp. “You _wound_ me.”

“I think you’ll live.”

Lance mellowed, his mind given over to solemnity. “I know it’s lousy being stuck here."

Keith jostled his shoulder. "Company could be worse."

"If you could go anywhere, though. Where would you wanna be?”

“Space,” Keith answered without hesitation.

Lance perked up. “Really?”

“You did say anywhere.”

“No, no, that’s a good answer. You know I work at the planetarium.”

“Yeah?”

“Since I moved here,” Lance said. “Pidge and Hunk and I were Physics majors. Well. I was Physics and Theater. Makes me ideal for dramatic interpretation.”

“You give tours.”

“I’m the education coordinator. Tours and programs and school group visits.”

“That sounds fun, actually.”

“It’s a blast.” Lance stifled a yawn behind his hand. “Do you believe in fate?”

Keith chortled. “Is this twenty questions?”

“Usually people call it a conversation.”

Keith answered after a moment, “I'm not big on destiny. I like to think I have more control over my life. But here I am.”

“For now,” Lance conceded. “We’ll make an astronaut out of you yet.”

He yawned again, too loud and noisy to hide.

Keith sighed. “Go to sleep, Lance.”

“Okay, _mom_.”

“You have work tomorrow.”

Lance grumbled at the thought of how early his alarm was set. “Sweet dreams, Keith.”

Keith reached out, running a hand down Lance’s arm with gentle strokes. The soothing motion continued until Lance was lulled into sleep.

~ * ~

Lance met Hunk and Pidge in the library like a proper Scooby Gang.

“Alright,” Lance said. “I only found one owner, same guy as my landlord. Takashi Shirogane.”

“Really?” Pidge snatched the paper from his hand.

“Yeah. You know him?”

Pidge studied the photocopy of Lance’s lease. “I think he may have been in Matt’s class.”

“What?” Lance yelped. Hunk hushed him and he continued, quieter. “Okay, that’s freaky. This is legit freaking me out right now.”

“I recognize the name,” Pidge said. “Doesn’t mean it’s the same guy.”

“How many ‘Takashi Shiroganes’ do you think there are?” Lance wondered.

“You've met him, what's he look like?”

“I haven't, actually,” Lance admitted. “The lease was handled through an agency.”

Pidge shrugged. “No idea, then.”

“What have you guys got?” Lance asked.

“We’ve been analyzing the thermal data from our first encounter,” Hunk replied.

Lance grinned. “Misappropriating university equipment?”

Hunk gave a noncommittal tilt of his head.

Lance sniffed theatrically. “I'm so proud.”

“Keith definitely gives of a heat signature,” Hunk explained. “A little cooler than your average person, but it's significant.”

“So…he's the invisible man?”

Hunk waffled. “The infrared signature isn't conclusive enough to prove he’s human. And it doesn't explain his dematerialization.”

“You said he dissipates frequently,” Pidge added.

Lance nodded. “He vanished right from under the sheet.” His friends gave him a baffled look. “We were folding laundry.”

“Pidge has also been combing over the entire occult section,” Hunk said.

Pidge opened an appropriately old and worn tome. “I think you may have a Lilin on your hands.” Lance and Hunk met her with a blank stare. Pidge sighed. “More commonly known as an incubus or succubus.”

Lance gulped. “A demon?”

Pidge frowned. “That title implies a value judgement. Let’s say...a psychic predator, like the white court vampires. A creature who feeds on sexual energy.”

“Isn’t Lance...kind of…already that?” Hunk pointed out. Pidge snickered, Lance pouted, and Hunk put his hands up defensively. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just saying. Your sex drive is like...infinite.”

“I have a lot of love to give,” Lance mumbled.

“That’s an interesting point.” Pidge adjusted her glasses. “As an amorous person, it’s rather poetic that an amorous creature would be drawn to you.”

Lance scoffed. “Poetic.”

“He does seem to be haunting _you_ , not just the space. You’re the only one who can hear him.”

“He never leaves the house, though,” Lance said. “He says he’s trapped there.”

“Hmm.”  Pidge slumped. “There is something about the house, then.”

“If he's a...lily-nin, why the whole invisibility deal?”

“I have a theory about that.” Pidge sat up straighter. “You’re familiar with the story of Cupid and Psyche.”

“Vaguely?” Lance wrinkled his nose. “Cryptology is more your thing.”

“It’s Apuleius—” She cut herself off, breathing in and out slowly. “The story goes that Eros, son of Aphrodite, is an objectively handsome demi-god. Everyone wants to get in his pants.”

“Pidge.” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “I’m flattered.”

Hunk patted him on the back. “You’re not Cupid in this scenario.”

“Why not?” Lance griped.

“ _Anyway_.” Pidge continued. “Aphrodite has a beef with this family so she sends Eros to shoot his love-arrow at the youngest daughter Psyche and make her fall in love with a hideous monster.”

“Beauty and the beast,” Hunk related.

“Was inspired by the original myth, yeah. Eros falls in love with Psyche and things get complicated. Psyche is a human, Aphrodite has a vendetta against her, and Eros has trust issues.”

“Sounds familiar,” Lance mumbled under his breath.

“He visits Psyche but only in the dark. He doesn’t let her see him.”

“Like what’s-his-name walking out of the underworld and he can’t look back at the girl,” Lance guessed.

“Orpheus,” Hunk supplied helpfully.

Lance nodded. “Yeah, that guy.”

“Pretty much,” Pidge agreed, taking the interruptions in stride. “Eros wants Psyche to love him for who he is, not because he’s the ‘god of love.’ But Psyche’s sisters convince her that Eros is actually the horrible monster. How would she know? She’s never seen him.”

Lance thought back to Keith pinning him down on the bed, the shape and warmth of him so humanlike. And the strain in his voice when Keith talked about the void he slipped into when he was away. He didn't seem like a predator. But that's just what a hunter would want you to think.

“And it ends badly?” Lance fretted. “If it ends badly, I don’t want to know.”

“It depends on the version. Usually they end up together in the end. But in the meantime, Psyche can’t stand not knowing and brings a lamp into the bedroom when Eros is sleeping. She spills hot oil on him and he’s pretty pissed.”

“Kinky,” Lance quipped.

Hunk tapped his chin thoughtfully. “So Keith is testing Lance?”

“It's just a theory,” Pidge cautioned. “It doesn't explain the phasing in and out or the memory lapses. It's also very possible he's just a plain old ghost.”

Lance leaned forward on his elbows. “Is there a way to know for sure?”

“You could ask him,” Hunk suggested.

“We kind of tried that already,” Lance said. “Plus I don't want to send him into a postmortem existential crisis."

“Did you try and search him?” Pidge pursed her lips. “Just ‘Keith’ and a zip code doesn’t give you much to go on.”

“I went pretty deep into crime logs and the missing persons database for our county.” Lance shuffled through a few printouts. “I didn’t find anything that seemed connected in the past couple years. But who knows how long Keith’s been hanging around.”

“Your landlord seems like our best lead,” Hunk said.

“Yeah.” Lance sighed. “But can I really go up to him and ask if some dude named Keith died while living there? He’ll think I’m crazy.”

Pidge shook her head. “Tell him you’re a paranormal investigator. That’s a thing.”

“What if Keith was his long lost uncle or something?” Lance countered. “I don’t wanna offend the guy by dishonoring his memory or something.”

“We could always do it _Ghost_ style and hire a medium,” Hunk proposed.

“Now I’m Demi Moore?” Lance groused, flinging himself forward, his head hitting the table with a soft _thunk._

Hunk squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out."

“Thanks, guys.” He raised his head to flash them a grateful smile. “You really are the best.”

“We know.” Pidge grinned and ruffled his hair.

~ * ~

Wednesday was rough and Lance needed to let loose. He stumbled in after a late club night, sloshed and wired and sweaty and frustrated, tension straining and ready to snap. The smell of booze clung to him, bosom companion of the one night stand that he _couldn't get_ because his mind—even intoxicated—kept drifting to the ethereal companion waiting for him at home.  
  
He tossed his keys thoughtlessly toward the entryway table, flopping on the couch and wincing at the tightness already building under the fly of his jeans.  
  
"Fair warning, Keith," he drawled, smoothing a palm down his abdomen from collarbone to crotch. "I'm buzzing and horny and I haven’t gotten off in months and I haven’t gotten laid in...forever. So scram or you're definitely gonna get a show."  
  
He groaned reflexively, dick twitching at the idea—the very wrong and _hot_ but incredibly _bad_ idea. Keith was his friend. Kinda. And he was possibly dead. Ish. But his drunken brain fixated on the other possibility that emerged recently: that Keith was a cryptid who feasted on sexual energy. Which seemed hotter right now than it ought to be.  
  
“That get you going?” Keith’s silken voice poured over him. “Being watched?”  
  
Lance moaned, palm heavy over his growing erection. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Lance scrambled out of his shirt and conquered his jeans in a flash of frantic movement. The first touch of his hand on his cock, just freeing it from his boxers, sent a shudder running through his whole body. He was beyond horny.

“Yep,” he bit out, breath stuttering as he gripped his dick and gave it a tug. “We're doing this."

Keith’s airy chuckle sounded from behind the couch. “I’m not doing anything. That’s all you.”

“You’re _there_.”

Lance began with a few experimental strokes, reacquainting himself. There was lube upstairs and his bed was probably more comfortable but Lance was too far gone to entertain stopping now. He tossed his head back against the throw pillow, arching bodily at the sheer pleasure of finally giving in. It had been so long, so fucking long. He was hypersensitive to the lightest touch.

“Talk to me,” Lance begged.

He paused to squeeze at the base of his cock because the notion of Keith talking him through this was just short of too much.

“You look good like this,” Keith murmured. “Desperate.”

Lance licked his lips, resuming his lazy strokes.

“Did you watch me? In the shower?"

“No.” Keith’s voice was firm. “Not without your permission.”

“Classy.” Lance laughed self-consciously. “Hope I live up to the hype.”

“Don’t give me that false modesty,” Keith scolded. “You know you’re hot.”

The admittance made Lance preen. “Still nice to hear it.”

“You haven't jacked it since you got here. How long before that?”

Lance mewled. “Fuck. I dunno.”

“You're so strung out. Aching for it,” Keith rumbled, the low husk of his voice feeding Lance’s arousal, gasoline on the fire. “Won't take much.”

Keith was right. Lance’s body was shaking with the effort of holding back. Forcing himself to keep his pace steady; to maintain the long, too-slow glide of his hand. If he gave in, fucked up into his fist, it’d be awesomely fucking satisfying—and over in just a few strokes. Lance wanted to put on a good show.

“Wanna last,” he confessed.

“I know,” Keith soothed. “You've been so good, holding off.”

“Ahhh.” He ate up the praise, restraint melting as he stroked faster.

“Let go,” Keith said, his tone dark and commanding. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Lance stared in the direction of Keith’s voice, gaze teary and unfocused. He couldn't see the spirit’s eyes but he felt the thrill of contact, the sizzle that crackled up his spine, suffusing him in unbearable heat. He was close, so close, shit—fuck—he was whining and cursing and riding the edge of bliss bordering near painful, all under Keith’s unrelenting stare.

“Come for me, Lance.”

He cried out, loud and desperate as his cock throbbed in hand, coming in powerful spurts over his naked chest. His body wracked with pleasure for longer than seemed possible. Every touch and twinge seemed magnified. Lance was utterly wrecked by the force of his long-awaited orgasm.

The aftermath was a blur. He woke up naked but clean in his bed the next morning, painkillers and a tall glass of water waiting on his nightstand. He called out a thanks to Keith, but got no answer, no confirmation whether the whole incident was real or an intensely vivid dream.

 


	2. "Straight" to My Lover's Heart

Lance felt a bit silly he hadn’t thought of it before. All it took was some diligent social media stalking to blow the case of the ghostly lingerer wide open. Takashi Shirogane (or Shiro, as everyone in his feed called him) in addition to holding the property Lance currently sub-leased, owned his own bar downtown. His brother, Keith, was connected through an inactive bare-bones profile with no picture.

Keith was tagged in older photos on his brother’s profile, but prodding into Keith’s past beyond what was necessary made him feel invasive. Which—he should probably have considered further before going into the city to visit Shiro’s bar.

It was a fact-finding mission, he told himself, and there was no guarantee that Shiro would even be there on a quiet Thursday at noon, long before happy hour. Except he was, and the hostess pointed Lance to the tall hulk of man behind the bar. Lance swallowed, mumbled his gratitude, and skulked toward a stool at the end.

His landlord nodded as Lance took his seat. “What can I get you?”

“Mimosa,” Lance requested.

Shiro smiled knowingly. “Hair of the dog?”

“Something like that.”

Lance studied the wood pattern of the dark lacquered bar as Shiro made his drink, mustering the courage to start what promised to be a very strange conversation. Impulse had gotten him this far, but Lance was blanking on a way to broach the subject of Keith without seeming like a total creeper. Before he’d settled on an answer, Shiro was sliding the dainty orange cocktail across the bar on a thin black napkin.

He managed a smile and a thanks and took a sip. Shiro lingered, as though sensing there was more to this visit.

“Shiro, right?” Lance asked. That seemed a safe enough place to start.

“Last time I checked,” Shiro joked.

“I’m Lance.”

“Pleasure.”

“I rent the townhouse in northwest.”

“I see.” Shiro narrowed his eyes quizzically. “Is there a problem?"

“No! No. The place is great. I like it.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Lance rolled the edge of the cocktail napkin between his fingers. He couldn’t seem to make the leap from tenant to ‘I think your dead brother is haunting me.’ He wished he’d come up with a better plan.

Shiro rounded the bar and oh god, this was it, this was how Lance died, pummeled to death by his probably hot ghost housemate’s definitely hot older brother and if he was lucky maybe he’d get to hang out with Keith at the house in the afterlife instead of haunting a random bar in the city. But Shiro didn’t get right to the beating. He sat down on the stool next to Lance and leaned in, keeping his voice low.

“Whatever you want to tell me isn’t half as absurd as you think it is,” Shiro said. “And I need to hear it.”

Lance came to attention. Shiro knew _something_ was up. That gave him a starting point.

“Keith,” Lance said.

Shiro leaned forward. “You found him.”

A frantic laugh bubbled out of him. “In a manner of speaking.”

Shiro sat back, patiently waiting for Lance to elaborate.

“He’s...kind of haunting the place.”

“Ah.” Shiro nodded.

Lance let out an anxious breath, tension flowing out of him. “You don’t seem surprised."

“It was always a possibility,” Shiro commented, distracted by his own train of thought.

“Shiro, my buddy, my man, you’re gonna have to do me a solid here and please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Shiro schooled his expression to something more guarded.

“Keith and I are a little different.”

Lance tamped down the urge to cackle in his face. “Dude. Your little brother has been wreaking havoc on the townhouse poltergeist-style with me in it for months now. We’re past vagaries.”

“Alright.” Shiro flashed a resigned grin. “We’re lilin.”

“Huh. Pidge was right.”

She usually was, so Lance wasn't particularly shocked by the confirmation.

“Pidge?”

“Oh.” Lance itched at the base of his head. “My friend.”

“Not Katie Holt?”

“Wow. So you do know Matt.”

“Yeah.” Shiro chuckled dryly. “Small world.”

Lance scoffed. “Apparently. Back to Keith, though.”

“Right. Keith is half, actually.”

“Hmm.” So Keith and Shiro were probably half brothers...or adopted or something. And Keith was at least partly human. “That explains the aloofness, I guess.”

“Not really. It’s a misconception that lilin are outgoing and promiscuous. We actually tend to be more introverted and prefer monogamy over anything else.”

“No kidding.”

Shiro gave him a look. “Imagine walking around knowing the state of everyone’s libido. It gets awkward quickly.”

“Yeah,” Lance shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I get that.”

Shiro wandered into his own thoughts again. “I was worried this is what happened. But I kept visiting the house and never felt his presence...so I figured maybe he ran.”

“Does he do that?” Lance asked. “Just up and run away without telling anyone?”

“It’s happened once or twice before. Keith gets overwhelmed sometimes and his wanderlust kicks in. He’s prone to disappear without prior notice, but in the past he’s always checked in eventually. At least a text to let me know he’s okay.”

Lance nodded. “What is it that you think happened again?”

“Right, sorry. When lilin don’t feed on amorous energy for too long, they begin to lose their grip on the physical world and slip into the astral plane.”

“So...he’s alive, he’s just trapped between dimensions?”

Shiro tilted his head, considering. “Essentially, yes.”

“Ohthankgod,” Lance breathed out.

Keith’s big brother smiled. “You care for him.”

“Uh.” Lance’s face burned. “Well I don’t want him to be dead!”

“I’m glad. He’s obviously taken to you.”

Lance choked on air. “What—ah—what makes you say that?”

“His aura. It’s clinging to you. I could sense Keith on you the moment you walked through the door.”

“Damn.” Lance covered his face with his hands.

Shiro’s face softened. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I’m just relieved Keith is alright and that he has you looking after him.”

“I’m doing my best.”

Shiro smiled, warm and genuine. “You’re doing great.”

“Is there a way to get him back? From the astral plane?”

“If he’s been starving himself of amorous energy for this long, it may take time. But if he received enough energy he should materialize.”

“Cool, cool.” Lance chuckled nervously, awed at how Shiro remained so matter-of-fact. “That’s good. But, I mean, is there a ritual involved or…?”

“I have a feeling it’ll sort itself out.” Shiro’s knowing grin was killer.

Lance squeaked. “We’ll—uh—we’ll work on that.”

The door clicked as another customer entered the bar, mercifully wrapping up the conversation.

Shiro offered his right hand. “Thanks for stopping by, Lance.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.” Lance shook the proffered hand.

Shiro gave a strong squeeze before letting go. “I’m glad it was you who answered the listing.”

“Me too.” He got up to leave, but paused when a thought struck him. “Is it red?”

Shiro turned back toward him. “What?”

“My aura, is it red?”

“Yeah, can you—”

“Nah.” Lance smiled, something giddy bubbling up in his chest. “Lucky guess.”

~ * ~

“Honey, I’m home,” Lance called out at the doorway.

He heard the television click off inside. Lance took a deep breath, trying to get a handle on all the excitement, affection, and worry buzzing around inside him. He walked inside, Keith stepping up to meet him in the living room.

“Hey,” Keith greeted.

“Okay.” Lance said. “Don’t freak out.”

“Not a very promising way to start a conversation.”

“I went to see your brother.”

“...Shiro.”

“Yeah.

Keith plopped down on the couch, cushion squeaking beneath his apparent weight. “How could I have forgotten?”

Lance reached a hand behind him, fumbling in the air for a moment before it found Keith’s back. “You’ve been through a lot. From the beginning your memory’s been spotty.”

“But he’s my brother.” Keith’s voice was so small it nearly broke Lance’s heart.

“You remember now,” Lance pointed out. “That’s a good sign.”

“What did he say?”

“Uh…yeah. So, you know you’re a lilin?”

“Oh. Right.”

“Did you just remember that too?”

“More like as soon as you said it, I knew I already knew that.”

“Sure,” Lance replied, as if that made sense. “How did this happen? The disappearing act. You have a dry spell?”

Keith huffed. “I’m lilin but I’m human too. And I’m just not...I’m not like you. I don’t connect to people easily.”

A beat, while Lance waited for Keith to gather his thoughts.

“Lilin don’t suck the souls out of people,” Keith blurted.

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s good to know.”

“It’s just...people think the worst.”

“I guess that's true.” Lance was guilty of that himself.

“We feed on sexual energy but we don’t _drain_ anyone. It's endlessly renewable. There’s an excess. People exude it. You can be walking down the street and catch a wave of it, like someone wearing too much perfume.”

“You got overwhelmed?”

Keith chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s usually overwhelming. But at that time...it was more that I was getting negative energy rather than positive. Unrequited attraction, narcissistic lust, general sleaze. I used to work security for this club downtown. Marmora."  
  
Lance nodded, recognizing the name. "Rough place." He paused, connections sparking in his brain. "Wait, wait. Hold up. Holy—you're not—are you The Blade?"  
  
"Oh." Keith's voice went dull. "You heard about that."  
  
"Um, yeah. That shit went viral." Lance ruffled a hand through his hair in an unconscious pantomime of the way his mind was being blown right now. "Dude, you literally brought a knife to a gun fight and _won_."

"Yeah, well. We weren't supposed to have knives while on duty so they sacked me."  
  
"What?" Lance balked. "That's total crap. You saved those guys' lives—and who knows how many others."  
  
"Didn't matter. It was illegal and with the media attention, they had to follow protocol." Keith sighed. "After the club let me go, I felt lost. I didn't want to be around people. I stopped going out. And then...I guess I started fading."

“Dang.”

“Yup,” Keith said, popping the ‘p.’

“Well.” Lance brightened, hoping to lighten the mood. “It looks like you’re gonna have to get busy to get you back to normal.”

Keith let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s quite a line.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s the truth. Besides, the line goes like this.” He leaned over, pressing his lips to what felt like the shell of Keith’s ear. “Hey, baby. Wanna get corporeal?”

Keith seemed to shiver and Lance basked in virile pride.

“Is that an offer?”

“I mean…” Lance flashed a bashful smile in Keith’s direction. “I’m a willing subject. Unless you’re not into that,” Lance backpedaled. “We can find someone else. You know, match you on Lilin Tinder.”

“I’m giving you such a judgey look right now,” Keith muttered.

“There’s an app for everything.” He picked a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. “I don’t presume to be your first choice.”

Keith’s response was incredulous. “What are you talking about?

“Moving into your house while you’re still...kind of using it isn’t exactly a meet-cute.”

“That’s not—Lance, I like you just fine. It just seems backwards is all. We barely know each other.”

“It’s a bit out of order,” Lance admitted. “But...I want that opportunity. To _get_ to know you.”

“That is bizarrely sweet.”

“Hmph. Not the least bizarre aspect of this whole situation.” He plunked a hand on Keith’s knee. “So. What do you say? Casual hook-up with your accidental roomie to bring you back from the brink of nonexistence that might turn into something more?”

Keith snickered. “Why not? When you put it like that.”

“Cool. Cool.” Lance took a steadying breath. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

When no resistance opposed his declaration, Lance let his eyes slip shut and reached a hand out to find Keith’s jaw. He traced a thumb over the lilin’s cheek, orienting himself before leaning in.

Their lips met softly and Lance silently congratulated himself on his aim.

He imagined—hoped for, maybe—a big fairy tale smooch, where the love theme crescendoed and Keith appeared in a whirlwind of light and sparkles. That daydream faded as one tentative kiss flowed into the next, each more bold than the last. Keith’s lips were soft and when his mouth opened and their tongues met it felt hot and slippery and _real_ and Lance couldn’t hold back his needy moan at the thrill that blazed low in his belly.

“You probably meant later,” Keith whispered into his mouth.

“Hmm?” Lance purred, distracted and dizzy with want.

He angled his head to better rejoin their mouths. The kiss went molten, all fire and slick and hungry noises. Lance leaned backward, slipping a hand behind Keith’s head to bring him along, but Keith drew back, lips disengaging with a lewd smack.

“Lance?” Keith panted.

Lance blinked, feeling warm breath on his chin but seeing only a shimmer distort the air before him, like heat off asphalt in the summer.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want just a hook-up,” Keith said. “I _really_ like you.”

Lance beamed, cupping his jaw gently. “I know. Shiro told me you guys usually mate for life.” He tapped a chaste kiss to the lilin’s cheek. “I heart you, too.”

“Okay,” Keith grouched. “First of all, leave my brother out of this. Secondly, I’m not a zoo animal.”

Lance shrunk back, contrite. “Sorry.”

“You’re lucky I already want you.”

“Do you?” Lance quipped, drawing him back into a kiss.

“Upstairs,” Keith rasped. “Or we’ll desecrate this couch again.”

“Ohh,” Lance moaned at the memory. “That _was_ real.”

Keith tutted. “Were you really that drunk?”

Lance flushed. “No. I mean...kinda?” Keith grabbed his hands and tugged him to a stand. “You were gone this morning. I thought maybe it was just an insanely sexy dream."

“Not a dream,” Keith assured him. “But definitely sexy.”

Keith guided him toward the stairs, sliding an arm around his middle and Lance was struck by how it was a crime they hadn’t properly hugged yet. He remedied that at the bottom of the staircase, wrapping them up in a snug embrace and tucking his head into the lilin’s neck. Keith was warm. His back felt solid and smooth under his fingers, like—

“Skin,” Lance crooned. “You’re—oh my god.” He froze. “Have you been naked this entire time?”

“I’m a palpable manifestation of psychic energy preserved within these walls by memory and survival instinct,” Keith said flatly.

“Wow,” Lance marveled. “That’s a yes. I probably totally bumped into your junk the first time we ever spoke.”

“You’re about to get very familiar with my _junk_ if you play your few remaining cards right.”

Lance took a step to the side, maneuvering them up the stairs. They ascended backwards, pausing frequently to sneak little touches and kisses.

“How’s that gonna work?” Lance asked. “Since you’re energy and all.”

“I present in my physical form.”

“Huh.” Lance backed Keith against the wall, reaching down to squeeze his bare ass. “So since you remember your own body you can conjure up an invisible dick?”

Keith untangled from him at the bedroom doorway. “You saying shit like that makes the Void seem more appealing.”

“Ok, ok, got it.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Less conversation, more action.”

“Take your pants off.”

“Bossy,” Lance accused, but obliged. “Somehow I figured you would be.”

When he was free of his jeans and footwear, Keith pushed him toward the bed and Lance fell back, bouncing a bit when he hit the mattress.

Keith chuckled darkly. “You seem to like it.”

Lance could only assume he was referring to the erection straining his boxers, already forming a wet spot on the cloth.

“You caught me,” Lance said as the lilin settled in front of him.

Keith scritched nails down his captive’s thighs. “What should I do with you?”

“Is it too cheesy to say everythin— _ahhh_.”

Lance tipped his head back as Keith put his lips on him, warm breath seeping through the taut fabric of his underwear. Keith seemed eager to get started on ‘everything,’ tugging the waistband down and mouthing at his liberated cock.

Keith swirled his tongue around the tip. “So responsive.”

“Aw, sweetie.” Lance hissed through his teeth as Keith’s lips enveloped his dick. “You’ll make me blush.”

Keith retaliated the snark by sinking his mouth down nearly to the base in one smooth motion—an ineffectual punishment. Lance swore roughly. He could feel a smirk forming around his cock which really did it for him, apparently. He jerked upward in a bid for _more_ and a firm hand gripped his hip to keep him still.

Lance buried his fingers in his partner’s dense mane of fluffy hair. As Keith sucked him off, he watched in weird fascination, his brain trying to make sense of the wet heat suffusing his length while his dick appeared to penetrate...nothing.

Keith seemed to sense his distraction, pulling off. “Am I boring you?”

“Nah.” Lance grabbed at the lilin’s shoulders, prompting him to stand. “Just seems one-sided is all.”

He lifted up to strip his boxers then scooted back to recline on the pillows propped up against the headboard. Keith crawled atop him, aligning their bodies with a tantalizing amount of skin. They found each other’s mouths again, kissing languidly as hands mapped out new territory. Keith rocked his hips in short, stunted movements, as though he couldn’t help himself.

Lance wedged a hand between them, trailing down. He felt up toned abdominal muscles, flitted over ticklish sides, traced the sworl of a navel, earning little sighs and gasps. He was drawn to many body types. Free of expectation, Lance was just excited to learn the curves and planes that made _this_ body Keith. The back of his fingers brushed a thin trail of bristly hair that lead to the contrasting supple smoothness of a hard cock.

Keith threw his head back, jutting his hips in encouragement.

Lance indulged a few lazy strokes, getting a feel for him. It was difficult to gauge proportions without a visual, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Lance swiped the pad of his thumb right below the slit. Keith’s breath hitched. He pushed his luck, reaching a pinky down to press against his pubis. About an octave span, give or take a black key. _Nice_.

Keith made a disapproving sound. “Are you seriously measuring me up right now?”

“I am confirming that you’re perfect.”

Keith gave a derisive snort but seemed to accept the compliment anyway. Lance glanced down between them, appreciating the uncanny novelty of watching his hand jerk a dick he couldn’t see.

“Stop staring,” Keith groused. “It's creeping me out.”

Lance reached over toward the nightstand even as Keith whined at the loss of his hand. He rectified the issue by lining their cocks together and stroking with renewed purpose. The delicious friction proved a great distraction. With some fumbling, Lance snatched his prize—a silky sleep mask—and placed it over his eyes like a blindfold.

“How’s this?”

Keith laved his tongue over Lance’s nipple, eliciting a surprised yelp. “Works.” His warmth lifted and he sat up, presumably enjoying the view. “I think I wanna ride you.”

Lance garbled out a curse that was all consonants. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Despite his admission, Keith kept moving his hand over their joined cocks in an escalating tempo that was verging on a little _too_ good. Lance placed a his hand over Keith’s, abating his rapid strokes.

“Slow,” he croaked. “Or I won’t make it.” Lance nodded toward the nightstand. “Stuff’s in the drawer.”

Keith decided a completely awesome detour of kissing was necessary before leaning over to rummage through the nightstand drawer. Presumably having found his target, the lilin lifted up and off to the side. Bereft, the time without contact seemed longer than it was. Lance startled when Keith clasped his dick again, giving him a few nice strokes before rolling on a condom and slicking him up.

“Easy there, champ,” Lance husked as Keith straddled him. “You in a hurry?”

“Yep,” Keith quipped, aligning Lance’s erection. “You left me here all day.” He descended slowly, the head breaching his tight rim. “Alone.” Keith heaved a breath, sinking down further. “Thinking about your stupid cock.”

Lance groaned as Keith slid up and down a few times before finally bottoming out. “Stupid?” he squawked, only half faking indignance.

Keith rolled his hips with a pleased little sigh. “You gonna prove me wrong?”

“Fuck yes,” Lance said.

He let Keith set the rhythm, undulating to match the lilin’s dirty grind. Lance clutched his partner’s waist, more to ground himself than affect their movements. Inside, Keith was hot slickened perfection, tempting him to thrust mindlessly to a quick completion. But he held back, wanting even more to draw out every new amazing sensation.

Keith was doing his part, moving just how he wanted and—from the sound of his erratic panting—driving himself just as crazy. Lance couldn’t resist peeking down, catching a glimpse of his own cock standing proud, surrounded only by a glassy glimmer. Weird, but also strangely kinda hot. He shifted his mask back before getting caught. Keith never faltered, the mattress creaking beneath them as he bounced on the cock up his ass like it was his job.

With a drawn-out whine Keith fell forward, catching himself with a hand sprawled on Lance’s chest.

“ _Lance._ ”

“I'm with you,” he breathed, scooting them back so he could sit up further, pillows supporting his back. “Whatcha need, baby?”

“Touch,” Keith grit out.

Lance complied, reaching a hand down to wrap around the lilin’s cock. Keith wilted on top of him, slotting their mouths together wetly. Lance planted his feet flat on the bed, the better to meet the frenzied bucking of Keith’s hips. The new angle was deep and intense, drawing fervent moans from them both.

“I’ve got you, babe,” Lance urged, starting to fall apart himself. “Let go. Come for me.”

Keith grew wild, chasing the climax just out of reach and taking Lance along for the ride. He writhed like he was trying to fly away and crawl inside his lover at the same time. The coiling pleasure wound tighter. Keith batted Lance’s hand away, over-stimulated. He went rigid and still, whimpering nonsense into Lance’s neck and letting the man fuck him viscerally hard and fast.

With a strangled cry, Keith shuddered through his release. Lance relished the throbbing tightness around his cock and the lithe form shaking and curling around him. It was vulnerable and intimate and the romantic in Lance was helpless to do anything but shout and power through a few last eager thrusts and surrender to the wave of euphoria that washed over him.

“Fuck, Keith— _ahh_.”

Lance loved orgasms and he adored Keith and coming with Keith, inside him, was now the best moment in his life so far.

Keith collapsed and they flinched a bit as Lance slipped out. In the afterglow, they yielded to gentle touches. Keith dropped sweet little kisses to Lance’s clavicle and he considered never moving again. It was hard to beat coming, but cute, snuggly Keith was vying for new favorite moment.

Lance ran a hand down his abdomen, finding it surprisingly unsullied. “No mess.”

“No body,” Keith murmured.

A thrill ran through Lance, the blissful haze of mind rushing to catch up with his latest spark of brilliance. No body. The lilin was an embodiment of psychic energy. So in a way, this was all in their heads.

He tipped Keith to the side, met with a weak grunt of protest but no resistance. Lance snatched a tissue, made a half-hearted effort at cleaning himself up and smeared some lube on his hand before crawling between Keith’s legs with salacious intention.

“What’re yo—oohhhh.”

As speculated, Lance wrapped a hand around Keith’s unflagging erection. His other, lubed hand reached lower to press two fingers against the lilin’s still slick hole. He licked a long stripe from balls to tip and slid his middle finger inside. Keith quaked, grunting out a garbled attempt at his name.

“You want me to stop, just tap my arm,” Lance said. “Or say ‘quiznak.’”

Keith snorted at the ridiculous safeword, the complaint morphing into a groan as Lance took him in his mouth. The lilin tasted—may as well face it—like cock, salty and musky but also _really_ good somehow. Intoxicating and addictive.

“Yes,” Keith bit out.

Lance hummed a question mark around the cock in his mouth and Keith moaned.

“It’s a lilin thing.”

_Oh_.

Well, that was pretty great. No reason for Lance to not go to town on the tasty lilin cock currently resting heavy on his tongue. So he did, and the bedroom filled with Keith’s breathy _ahhh’s_ and lascivious slurping sounds that seemed louder than when they were fucking but couldn’t have been. Lance was just more attuned to it, blindfolded and focused completely on making Keith come apart.

With the enthusiastic blowjob and two fingers now curling _just so_ inside him, Keith tumbled over the edge once again, dick twitching satisfyingly in Lance’s mouth but coming dry. Strange and kinky and what the fuck was Lance’s life? He pulled his lips off but left his fingers in, running his free hand over any skin he could reach as he waited out the aftershocks.

“If I’m right,” Lance whispered against Keith’s dick. “I can roll you into another one.”

Keith whined long and low but didn’t tap out. _Awesome_. Lance extracted his fingers, employing his hand this time so he could drag his body up for a proper kiss.

“ _Fuck_ —”

Keith gasped into his mouth, fucking up into the fist around his cock. Lance was right. In this state the lilin was easy to rile up again, just as desperate for the next climax as the one before. Making Keith feel good again and again was a head trip. Lance felt powerful and incredibly lucky to be on the receiving end of this man’s trust.

“That’s it,” Lance cooed. “You’re so hot.”

Keith wailed and Lance greedily devoured the sound from his pliant mouth. Then Keith was shaking, overcome once again, dick pulsing futilely. Lance felt his body go lax and sated.

“Good?”

“Wha...what’d I say...about false modesty.”

“I’m open to feedback.”

“Lance is a golden sex god,” Keith rasped. “You want me to scream it from the rooftop?”

Lance rubbed his growing erection against the other man’s hip. “Still think my dick is stupid?”

“It’s perfect. Confirmed.”

“Great. We’ve got a matched set.” Lance sighed happily. “This is so damn fun.”

Keith huffed a laugh. “I’m glad."

“Gonna fuck you again,” Lance whispered conspiratorially.

“Changed my mind. You’re a fucking sex monster.”

Lance smirked. “Then I’m perfect for you.”

He draped his body over Keith, rutting his hips suggestively. Keith’s response was a broken, fucked-out moan so Lance could only assume he agreed.

~ * ~

Morning light poured into the room from behind the cracked door. Lance remained in denial that he was waking up. He cuddled under the soft blanket and dozed for a while longer. When he roused again, he figured it was time to face the world. Or at least the bedroom. Lance stretched and turned on his side, prepared to enjoy a lie-in.

There was a person in his bed.

He startled. Because when he’d gone to sleep—well. When he’d passed out from post-marathon sex exhaustion, Keith was…

_Keith._

Lance stared in awe at the man curled up beside him. Pale skin, dark hair—a bit gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes and hair grown out wild, but he looked peaceful; pretty face relaxed in sleep. Lance reached a hand out to touch, to compare sensory details with memory.

“Keith?”

The intruder scrunched his nose cutely and blinked. Sleepy, impossibly violet eyes looked up and a smile of recognition bloomed across that handsome face.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said.

In Lance’s heart, the music swelled with a dance of sparkles and light.

“Keith.” Lance swooped him up, raining kisses down anywhere he could reach. “You’re here. _You’re here, you’re here, you’re here._ ”

“Yeah,” Keith rumbled grumpily, not understanding the big deal. Lance pulled back, waving Keith’s hands in front of his own face. “Holy shit!”

Lance tackled him in an overjoyed hug.

“I’m back?” Keith asked.

“Mmm.”

Lance savored the embrace for a moment before jumping up and out of bed. He yanked pajamas out of a drawer and shoved them at Keith. Luckily they were roughly the same size. That was gonna be fun. They could totally pilfer each other’s wardrobes. Lance was so excited he was practically shaking.

“Here, put these on.”

“What—Lance—”

“Come on, come on,” Lance said, already pulling on his own sleepwear.

Keith lumbered out of bed and got dressed. Lance barely appreciated the view, too caught up with the simple fact that Keith was right there and visible and touchable and human...ish. As soon as Keith was clothed, Lance was tugging him down the stairs and through the foyer to the front door which he threw open and lead Keith over the threshold and down the front steps to the sidewalk in front of the townhouse.

They’d made it. They were both outside and nothing bad or strange happened. Keith was looking everywhere, awestruck; perhaps even moreso when his gaze fell back on Lance.

Lance squealed joyously, picking Keith up and spinning him around. The lilin laughed beautifully.

When Keith’s feet touched the ground, they noticed they had company. The next-door neighbor was just coming out of her house. She was taken aback by the hugging couple.

“Oh! Hello, Keith. You’re back.” The neighbor smiled. “Welcome home.”

Keith grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. Montgomery.”

“I haven’t met your boyfriend,” she confessed.

“Lance.” He gave a mock salute. “Nice to meet ya.”

Mrs. Montgomery nodded. “And you.”

“Well,” Lance said. “We’re gonna go eat brunch and make out.”

“Bye.” Keith gave her a little wave.

They rushed inside, barely catching the neighbor’s sigh of ‘young love.’ Lance parted long enough to close the door then gathered Keith back up in his arms.

“She totally saw you,” Lance hyped.

Keith beamed. “I know.”

“Seems nice.”

“Yeah.” Keith glanced away. “I feel bad, I don’t know anything about her beyond her name and unit.”

“Well, you can start getting to know everyone now. You’ve gotta parade your hot boyfriend around the neighborhood.”

Keith looked into Lance’s eyes, lips quirking a smile. “Yeah?”

“Yup. It’s in the contract.”

Keith laughed; a beautiful sound and a beautiful sight to enjoy. He stepped closer, leaning their foreheads together.

“Hey Lance.”

“Yeah, babe.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

~ * ~

Keith was flitting about the house so much it was making Lance dizzy. “What are you doing now?”

“Dusting.”

Lance frowned. “You’ve ‘pledged’ the hell out of that bookshelf twice already.”

“Well,” Keith muttered. “It’s dusty again.”

“Babe, the place looks great.”

“I know.” Keith sighed, putting away the duster. “I just—everything needs to be perfect. This is our first time hosting people and it’s your friends.” He shivered. “Your friends who totally know that you basically sexed me back to life. Oh. Shit. Does that mean Shiro knows? Shiro totally knows. Oh god…”

“Keith.” Lance put steady hands on his boyfriend’s biceps. “You’re spiraling.”

“What if they don’t like me? Or...us?”

“We’re all family.” Lance tucked a lock of hair behind Keith’s ear. “Everyone’s going to get along fine.”

Keith took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Do you wanna put this off?”

“No.” He pulled Lance into a hug. “Thanks, I’m alright. Just nerves.”

“You wanted a big homecoming.”

Lance had been surprised by that. He figured Keith would want to reacquaint with people one-on-one but the lilin insisted on bringing everyone together at once for a big welcome party.

“We can—”

Keith nodded. “I know. Because these are good people. Our people. I want to see them.”

“You’re gonna have fun. Even if it’s by accident.”

Keith shoved him playfully. “I’m lots of fun.”

“I know.” Lance flashed a cheeky smirk and kissed him.

A knock interrupted their moment. Keith gave his boyfriend’s hands one last squeeze and went to receive their first guests. The front door revealed Pidge, Hunk, and a new face for Keith.

“Keith,” Pidge greeted amicably.

Hunk smiled brightly. “Nice to officially meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The third guest offered a hand. “I’m Matt."

“Right!” Keith grinned and shook Matt’s hand. “Get in here.”

“Do I smell fresh baked goodies?“ Lance asked from the living room. “Hunk, I told you that you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“And you thought he would listen?” Pidge snarked.

Keith showed the baker where to put his pastries. “Hunk likes cooking.”

“Yes, I do.” Hunk asserted. “Thank you, Keith.”

Lance sighed dramatically. “I’m not _complaining._ If you want to spoil me, go right ahead.”

Another knock rang out and the hosts went to see who arrived. Keith opened the door to Shiro. The other guest must have expected the teary reunion hug because she hung back.

“Keith,” Shiro said, stepping back. “You remember Allura."

“Yeah, of course.”

Having been introduced, Allura rushed forward, collecting Keith in a loose embrace. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” Keith smiled, a little misty-eyed, seeming genuinely touched by her concern.

Allura released him, looking a bit sentimental herself. “And you must be Lance.”

“The one and only.” Lance gestured back and forth between Shiro and Allura. “Just so I don’t get it wrong, you guys are…”

“Engaged,” Allura confirmed.

“What?” Keith balked. “Since when?”

Shiro smiled, a bit bashful. “About six months now.”

“That’s...amazing. Congratulations."

The couple murmured thanks, sheepish to be the center of attention.

“Come meet everyone,” Lance offered.

Matt joked with Shiro about not seeing each other for _forever_ (it’d been two weeks). Lance learned his boss at the planetarium, Coran, was actually one of Allura’s dads. _Small world_. Pidge and Hunk were eager to hear about Keith’s new job at the dojo.

As the unlikely participants in Lance’s destiny gathered under one roof, something magical happened.

He was home.


End file.
